Page 110 of Mafia King's Broken Vow

Whatever the cost.

29

THE MAN BENEATH THE MONSTER

YAKOV

Istand at the window of the mansion, watching the night sky stretch endlessly above us. The moon casts pale light across the grounds, illuminating the security personnel who patrol the perimeter with heightened vigilance. My shoulder throbs dully where Pablo’s bullet grazed me—a small price to pay for keeping Mila safe.

She sits on the leather sofa behind me, her fingers absently tracing the bandage a medic applied to her arm—a minor injury from debris when Pablo’s men opened fire. The elegant dress she wore for her dinner is torn and stained, a stark reminder of how quickly things deteriorated. She’s alive. Safe. Here with me when she could have been lost. That thought alone makes my chest tighten with an emotion I’m still learning to name.

“They should be here soon,” she says, breaking the silence between us. Her voice carries that blend of professional calm and personal concern that’s become so familiar to me. So necessary.

I turn from the window to look at her. Even disheveled from the night’s violence, with her hair falling loose around her shoulders and her expensive dress torn and bloodstained, she’sbeautiful in a way that makes my breath catch. Not the polished, professional doctor who first entered my prison, but a woman who’s fought alongside me, who’s seen the monster and still chooses to remain.

“Are you worried?” I ask, studying her face for signs of the fear she hides so well.

She meets my gaze directly, those perceptive eyes missing nothing. “Should I be?”

“Abandoning my assigned post to chase after you wasn’t part of my rehabilitation plan,” I reply, a ghost of a smile touching my lips despite the gravity of our situation. “Igor will demand accountability.”

She rises from the sofa, moving toward me with that graceful confidence I’ve come to crave. “You saved my life, Yakov. Even Igor can’t ignore that.”

When she reaches me, her hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining. The simple contact sends heat rushing through my body, a reaction I still can’t control around her. Her skin carries the scent of fresh air and that subtle perfume I’ve memorized, amber and vanilla notes that linger in my dreams.

“You broke protocol and risked your standing with the Bratva,” she says softly, her thumb tracing patterns on my palm. “For me.”

“I’d risk more,” I admit, the words emerging before I can censor them. The raw honesty between us is still new, still dangerous, yet increasingly essential.

Her eyes darken at my words, pupils dilating with desire that mirrors my own. Before I can stop myself, I’m pulling her closer, one hand sliding to her lower back, pressing her against me in a way that leaves no doubt about what I want. What I need.

“Yakov,” she breathes, my name a question and permission in one word.

I answer by claiming her mouth, tasting adrenaline and fear and relief on her lips. She responds immediately, arms winding around my neck, body arching into mine as if seeking to eliminate any space between us. The kiss deepens, growing urgent and desperate, tongues sliding against each other in a dance we’ve perfected in the stolen moments of the past weeks.

My hand slides lower, cupping her hips, pulling her tighter against me where she can feel how much I burn for her. Her soft moan vibrates against my lips, sending a surge of heat straight to my cock, already hard and aching for her.

“We shouldn’t,” she whispers against my mouth, even as her fingers thread through my hair, holding me closer. “They’ll be here any minute.”

I growl, trailing kisses down her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips.

The sound of footsteps approaching pierces through the haze of desire. We break apart reluctantly, both breathing harder, eyes locked in silent promises.

“Later,” I promise, my voice rough with need. “When we’re alone.”

Her flush deepens, eyes still dark with wanting. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The front door opens, voices echoing through the mansion as Nikolai enters first, his expression unreadable as always, followed closely by Igor, whose face darkens when he sees me standing free, unrestrained, with Mila too close for professional propriety.

Aleksander follows behind them, still wearing tactical gear from the operation, his ice-blue eyes taking in the scene.

“What the hell is this?” Igor demands, hand drifting toward where I know he carries a weapon. “You abandoned your position during an active operation! Left the team exposed!”

“He saved my life,” Mila says, stepping forward, her voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. “Pablo would’ve killed me if Yakov hadn’t found me.”

“After breaking security protocols,” Igor counters. “After compromising the whole operation.”

“After doing what none of your men managed to do,” I reply, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “I reached her before Pablo could take her.”